Come look at me
by sinking m
Summary: Spock introduces his fake bondmate to Amanda, because he wants to make her happy. Everything works out. Or does it?


**This story is largely based on the film of the same name. I watch it when I feel sad, and it usually helps.**

**English isn't my first language. I'm very grateful to terianoen for proof-reading, helpful advice, and humor. I really enjoyed the experience.**

Amanda powered off the PADD and sat back, letting her head lean on the armchair. She hadn't left it for a year. The doctors' conclusion was that there wasn't anything wrong with her physically; it was a late-onset mental illness that kept her unable to walk. Amanda didn't feel her legs although all physical tests said that she should. She'd been prescribed medicine and therapy. However, there had been no improvement so far.

Amanda looked at Spock, who was currently checking their supplies in the kitchen island, making a list of all the things that required replenishing.

"I don't think I'll live much longer. I have a month left. Two at best." With a weak movement of her hand she stopped his protests. "I just have this feeling, and I want to make sure that when I'm gone, you won't be alone." Amanda locked her fingers. "Of course, you'll still have your father. But he's always away; his work doesn't leave him enough time for us, besides, it's not exactly what you need."

"Mother, there is no cause for concern. I am content with my life as it is. I have all I need. Furthermore, you still have many years ahead of you," Spock tried to reassure her.

Amanda went on as if she hadn't heard him. "I'm not afraid of dying. It's just—I'm so worried about you. No close friends, no bondmate. Why should it be this way? You're so kind, intelligent, and handsome. You've got a perfect education, an impressive track record. You speak many languages, you play the lute, you have a really good grasp of technology."

"A typical psychological profile of an unbounded male," Spock murmured.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Please don't take offense, but I'd like to ask you, S'chn T'gai. Have you—I know about Pon Farr. You must have—"

Spock stopped what he was doing in the kitchen island and gave her an apprehensive look.

Having noticed his tension, Amanda searched for a better wording, "I just want to ask you. Have you ever had an attachment?"

"Affirmative. Would you care for a bowl of plomeek soup?" Spock relaxed a little and went on inspecting the kitchen cupboards.

"Please don't take this the wrong way. I just want to know before I die." Amanda looked down, at her lap, and passed her hand over it, smoothing the fabric of her slacks. "A romantic attachment?"

"I am afraid so. Do not concern yourself. It's all a matter of the past. I could arrange something different if you do not want plomeek." Spock checked the packs of tea on the shelf.

"Ah, you have a past. Were there many?"

"Negative. It happened only twice." He picked up the plomeek.

"During which period?" Amanda watched him move around the kitchen.

"Mother, please cease worrying. It is not beneficial for your health. It was only twice during my whole life," Spock answered, his eyes focused on washing the vegetables in the kitchen island.

"What a pity! Why didn't you get bonded, then?"

Spock pressed his lips together. "It was out of necessity. We were not sufficiently compatible to be bonded. In any case, it is time to prepare for dinner."

Amanda persevered. "What about T'Pring?"

"She has chosen Stonn." Spock cut the plomeek and took the spices from the shelf.

"That idiot!" She shook her head, exasperated.

Spock didn't know whether his mother meant Stonn or T'pring. He didn't care much for either of them.

"It's all my fault. I didn't give you enough encouragement. Now it weighs heavily on my mind. I can't pass away peacefully, knowing that you'll be left alone. I wish you could find a person you'd connect with." Spock switched the stove on. He did wish he could put his mother at ease. But she was right, there wasn't anyone close to him. He had to rely on himself whether he liked it or not.

There was a knock at the door, causing Amanda to eye the door curiously.

"That's strange. Why would they knock instead of chiming?"

"It is perfectly reasonable. The neighbor said there was a problem with the new electricity panel."

"Don't forget to ask who it is," she warned him.

"Who is it?" Spock walked over to the door and asked obediently.

"Hi there, sunshine! It's me," the cheerful voice said.

"You have the wrong address," Spock replied through the door. "We are not expecting anyone at the moment."

"Oh, really? Doesn't Tony live here?"

"Negative. There is no one by this name in this residence," Spock informed the stranger.

"Oh, sorry, man." There was some rustling and shuffling behind the door. "Would you mind checking the address together?"

"S'chn T'gai, who is it?" Amanda craned her head, trying to get a glimpse.

"Do not worry, mother," Spock called back. "Someone has the wrong address. I will deal with it promptly and come back." Spock opened the door and saw a handsome man. He had blonde, slightly tousled hair, and strikingly blue eyes. Spock remembered seeing him among the cadets at the Academy. He was holding a bottle of wine and a bag with something that smelled like Chinese take-away.

"I'm so sorry for troubling you. A guy gave me his address, and I really wanted to see him, you know? Can you please take these for a minute?" The man grinned apologetically and pressed the bottle and the bag into Spock's hands. Spock blinked at the pile of food that suddenly obstructed his vision. It was strange to stand there with the tokens of good will and affection.

The man fished the communicator out of the pocket of his jeans. "Is this 112 Main Road, apartment 98?"

"Block B." Spock added, already knowing where theconversation was going.

"What? Is there also a Block A?"

"Obviously, there is. As well as Block C, D, and E."

"Ugh, don't tell me I've got to go through the whole alphabet." The man scrunched his nose in frustration.

"You could contact your friend and check the letter of the block," Spock suggested, trying to ignore the delicious smell coming off the bag.

"Why, yes! Thank you." The man reached out to take back the wine and the food. "You really helped me out. By the way, my name's Jim." Jim beamed at him, and Spock became oddly dazzled.

"I am Spock." He introduced himself in return.

"Nice to meet you, Spock. See you around." Jim had given him a little wave with the hand holding the bottle and already started his way down the stairs when Spock got an idea. A vague, mad, and for some reason, appealing idea.

"Jim, would it be possible for you to provide some help?"

Jim hopped back onto the landing. "Sure, Spock. What do you need me to do?"

"My mother is unwell." Spock didn't know how to explain the situation without making himself sound pitiful.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. But I don't see how I—" Jim floundered. "Maybe—do you want me to recommend a doctor? I think Bones could see your Mom. He's a great doctor. But you'd need to wait till tomorrow, he's coming back from Georgia, so—"

"No, Jim, you have misunderstood. Could you act as my acquaintance for my mother?" Spock asked.

Jim grinned. "You are my acquaintance."

Spock added, "She wishes to see—" he faltered. "That I have a fulfilling social life. It would bring her satisfaction."

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. If you think it might really help, I'd love to be of assistance."

"I would additionally appreciate it if you could be discreet about the whole experience."

"No problemo. 'Discreet' is practically my middle name." Jim's phrasing struck him as odd. Even for humans such a middle name would be highly irregular. Would it not?

"S'chn T'gai, is everything all right?" Amanda called, interrupting his train of thought. Spock suspected that his plan was the most illogical thing he'd ever done, but it was worth it if it could alleviate his mother's worry.

"Affirmative," he called out, taking the wine from Jim's hand and leading him to the living room.

At the sight of the visitor, Amanda straightened in her armchair and pushed the out-of-order strands of hair behind her ear.

"Mother, may I introduce you to Jim. Jim, this is my mother, Ms. Grayson." After a quick surprised glance at Spock, Amanda gave Jim a smile.

"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Grayson."

"Very nice to meet you, too, Jim. Please call me Amanda."

Her eyes sparkled as she addressed Spock, "Please make Jim feel welcome. I think you should take his coat and bring the glasses for the wine."

While Spock was hovering, Amanda turned to Jim. "How long have you known each other?"

"Well, not that long. We met at the campus."

"Oh, maybe you haven't known each other for long, but I've heard quite a lot about you from my son. Only the good things. You can't even imagine how highly he thinks of you." Amanda smiled peacefully whereas Spock tried to take in the newly discovered 'facts' about himself.

"_Oh_, really? I think highly of him, too." The glance Jim cast his way made his cheeks flare hot. "My new acquaintance has a surprisingly advanced abilities in adapting to the circumstances," Spock told himself firmly, in his head. In any case, it was time to cut their conversation short.

"Mother, I must inform you that Jim is unable to stay for any longer. He was in the vicinity and decided to pay us a visit. However, due to his busy schedule, he has to depart now."

"Oh no, Jim, please stay just for a short while," Amanda said. "I haven't felt so happy and young for a long time. All thanks to you." Her words convinced Spock that it'd been a good idea to introduce Jim to his mother. Amanda kept going, "I'd really love to get to know you better. I'm sure my son would appreciate it too if you could spend a little bit more time with him." Spock crossed his arms. It was all getting out of control.

Jim hardly hesitated. "Okay, Amanda. Can I make a call, and then I'll be right back?"

"Yes, of course. And let S'chn T'gai take your coat."

Jim shot an amused glance at Spock, who was standing in the doorway, probably contemplating the trap of his own making before he strode out of the room into the hall.

"Is Jim the first or the second of your attachments?" Amanda asked once Jim was out of sight. Spock opened his mouth to answer, but she went on without giving Spock an opportunity to answer. "Why didn't you introduce Jim sooner? We could've arranged a nice welcoming dinner for him."

Spock ventured, "There was not a favorable context for such a meeting." Which technically was not a falsehood, was it?

Meanwhile Jim shrugged out of his jacket, put it on the rack, and took the communicator out of the pocket. Even though Tony was just a booty call, he'd better warn him about his delay and ask about the block he was living in. Anyways, 'his mission' was unlikely to take him more than an hour.

"Hey, sunshine. Sorry, I'm going to be late," Jim said in a hushed voice.

"Yeah? But do you still plan to come?" There was definitely a smug smirk in Tony's voice.

"Have no doubts, pumpkin. I'll be there. Which block do you live in, by the way? I've forgotten to ask you earlier."

"Block D. Why are you whispering?" Tony wondered.

"It's a long story. I have to help a friend, and then I'll be on the way. Are you hungry? I can bring some take-aways."

"Jim, we're not meeting to eat, you know. Speaking of which, does your long story have long legs and all other necessary long attributes? I wouldn't say no to a third party." It was easy to picture Tony lounging on his couch, stretching languorously and stroking himself.

"No, Tony. It's not like that." Jim looked up and contemplated the ceiling. "I'll be at your place in about an hour, I think."

"You'd better hurry. I might as well doze off. See ya." Flustered by Tony's suggestive tone, Jim shut down his communicator and turned around to see Spock clutching the wine and the bag to his chest as if seeking moral support from them. He blinked, and Jim watched as his vulnerable expression disappeared, the features hardening into impassivity.

"I offer my apologies for the inconveniences caused. I will compensate the cost of the wine and food."

"Nevermind," Jim answered. "I'm glad to help." Spock gave him a searching look and found nothing but sincerity. There was a tugging sensation deep in his stomach. Illogically, he wished that Jim was truly his lover, who had just dropped by to see him, and the things in his hands had been intended for him instead of being the evidence of someone else's happiness.

"Let's get back to Amanda," Jim said. "She must be waiting for us. Oh, hang on, before that, we'll need some glasses and a corkscrew. I'll take these while you're fetching them." Jim grabbed the bottle and the bag, brushing past him into the living room.

When Spock came into the living room with the necessary items, Jim was sitting on the couch, saying something about the open box of take-away in his hand; Amanda was watching him with wide eyes and shaking her head. There was a strange warmth growing in Spock's stomach. "It might be an initial stage of acid reflux," he decided.

Amanda turned brusquely to him, "Can you imagine it? They added sesame to the noodles even though Jim asked them not to do it. It's a good thing Jim noticed. He's severely allergic to it."

Jim scratched his neck sheepishly. "It's mostly my fault. It was a bad choice of food, taking all my allergies into account."

"S'chn T'gai, I think you need to cook something for Jim," Amanda said urgently. Her hands were gripping the armrests tightly, as if she was ready to stand up and rush to the stove herself. Spock hadn't seen her so animated for a long time.

"We still have some plomeek soup," Spock said matter-of-factly.

"Plomeek soup? What a ridiculous idea! Plomeek soup and wine. Absolutely unacceptable. You'd better make a proper impression," Amanda admonished him.

"Oh, I'd actually love some plomeek soup if it's not too much trouble." Jim rubbed his hands together; to Spock's surprise, he did look quite excited. "I've never tried it before. I'm curious."

"It's so marvelous when your partner is open for trying something new, isn't it?" Amanda blinked innocently at her son.

Spock didn't splutter, but it was a close call. Instead he turned abruptly and headed to the kitchen island.

He heated up some soup and put a bowl on the coffee table in front of "his partner". Jim inhaled and closed his eyes blissfully. Spock had to admit that it was illogically endearing. Hopefully, the soup would be to his liking. He didn't notice Amanda's quick studying glance on his face, which then settled back on Jim.

Jim started tucking into the plomeek soup while Amanda was gazing at their guest like a child might look at the magician who shows the impossible, yet wonderfully real magic tricks. Spock indulged in observing how Jim's fingers were securely holding the spoon.

"Jim, you said you'd met my son at the campus. How did it actually happen?" Amanda asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I think it was a miracle."

"Beautifully _put_!" Amanda patted his arm encouragingly. "I don't think you even expected to meet each other."

"Oh, yes. It was really out of the blue." Jim glanced at Spock. "I would have laughed if somebody'd told me an hour before that I would be sitting in such great company eating plomeek soup."

"What a lovely toast! Let's drink to that." Amanda reached for the wine and corkscrew on the table.

Spock finally made himself tear his eyes off the mesmerizing sight that was Jim.

"Mother, allow me to assist you with opening the bottle. It must be taxing for you."

It was at that moment that the cork left the bottle with a pop, and Amanda, apparently, unable to cope with the impact, let the corkscrew free. It made an arc in the air and hit Jim in the chest, leaving a smudge of red on his white T-shirt.

"Oh, no! Please forgive me, Jim. I'm so clumsy." Amanda covered her mouth, horrified.

Jim rubbed his chest. "It's okay. Don't worry. A white T-shirt's always a risky choice."

Amanda addressed Spock, "Could you please use a sonic washer on Jim's T-shirt? I feel so ghastly. I think the washer will be able to cope with the stain."

Spock dithered. He really wished he could tackle the stain without asking Jim to remove the garment. Or did he? If the contours under the T-shirt were anything to go by, it would be quite a sight. Not that he needed another reason to find Jim fascinating. Spock cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together.

"Jim, please follow me," he uttered more or less firmly.

"Okay." Jim hurriedly swallowed the last spoon of plomeek and stood up. "Where shall I put the dish?"

"I will deal with it." Spock took the bowl, walked over to the kitchen _island_ and placed it into the dishwasher.

He got back to Jim and motioned for him to follow. "The bathroom is this way." Jim went with him obediently, passing the hallway and entering the bathroom.

"Okay. I'll just take it off. I'd prefer slightly different surroundings," Jim waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "But the bathroom would do, I guess." He had always reckoned if you couldn't avoid an awkward situation, you'd better embrace the awkwardness in all its glory. In this case, in its topless glory.

He pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to Spock, who was determinedly fiddling with the settings of the sonic washer and not looking back at him. He didn't surreptitiously marvel at how Jim's muscles stretched and flexed. Definitely not.

"I have selected the mild cleaning mode in order to keep the fiber intact. The process will not take more than 7.56 minutes," Spock told him, his words echoing off the bathroom walls.

Jim leaned against the doorframe, watching Spock close the lid and fiddle with the settings one more time. The machine gave out a short hiss and began working its magic on his clothes.

"Thank you. It's very thoughtful of you," Jim said.

"It is I who should be thanking you," Spock assured him. "You agreed to help a complete stranger although it upset your own plans for the evening." Spock's eyes met his. Jim wondered when he had managed to apply the lovely eye shadow. He could bet there had been no eye shadow when he'd first seen Spock. The light blue really complimented his eyes.

"It's no bother. Your Mom is a lovely person. I like talking with her. And so are you," Jim finished lamely. "I mean, you seem like a nice person, too."

"I appreciate your exuberant praise," Spock replied coolly.

Jim laughed. "And sassy to boot."

For a minute, they watched the washer in silence.

Jim ventured. "I wouldn't mind seeing your Mom again. You can't be helpful just for an hour. When you start something, you should see it through."

Spock didn't answer at once. "It would be unnecessary. You can go back to your 'sunshine'." Even to himself, Spock sounded jealous when he referred to Jim's relationship.

Jim's shoulders stiffened. After a moment, he asked blankly, "What are you going to tell Amanda if I never come again?"

"I am capable of solving this issue. There is no need for concern. I will, as you say, 'think of something'," Spock countered.

"Am I going to die in a hover accident? Or are you going to give me a terminal illness? Maybe I am to be killed by Klingons in the uncharted territory?"

Visibly unperturbed by Jim's mocking tone, Spock took the T-shirt out of the washer, checked that there was no trace of the wine and handed it to Jim.

"For a Vulcan, I possess a very vivid imagination."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," Jim mumbled, unfolding his T-shirt to put it on.

"I will read my mother your emails."

"Emails? From a mission in deep space, huh? Please be modest and don't read her the dirty bits." His voice got muffled by the T-shirt that he was tugging on. "Okay, let's get back to Amanda."

Amanda's face lit up when they entered the room. She shifted her gaze from one to another. "I think we should finally celebrate our meeting." She held out the bottle to Spock. "Darling, would you mind filling the glasses?"

"Mother, I do not think you should consume alcohol," he cautioned.

"Just a couple of drops into my tea. Have a glass yourself. Please give Jim a glass, too. He doesn't strike me as a drunk."

"Thanks," Jim said amused. "I'm good. I've got to ride a motorbike today. I'd better be sober."

"Oh, a motorbike—You shouldn't have spent your money on wine. And please take a seat."

"I didn't want to come empty-handed," Jim said, sitting down on the couch. Such a response seemed a better answer than the explanation of the one-night stand logistics.

"Would you like some iced rose hip tea? It's quite refreshing, and it's got vitamin C." She motioned with her head at the dewed jug on the table.

"I'd love to," Jim replied. Amanda poured him some tea while Spock busied himself with the wine.

She gazed at both of them with shiny-eyes and raised her glass. "To you. I hope you will stay by each other's side. Always."

Jim's breath hitched. The moment felt so real. As if he had really gotten a blessing. One he had to work hard to deserve. Out of the corner of his eye he noted that Spock appeared equally affected.

They clinked their glasses.

After a couple of sips, Amanda touched her forehead with her fingertips.

"I feel a bit dizzy. Perhaps, I'm not used to it."

"I am certain you will benefit from some rest. In any case, Jim has to leave_;_ we have already delayed him as it is." Spock gently took the glass from his mother's hand and nodded to Jim. Jim dutifully stood up.

"Thank you," Amanda said. "I'm so glad that my son has you in his life. You're always welcome here. If you find some time on your hands, please do drop by."

Jim chuckled bashfully. "I'd love to. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Spock walked him to the door, an air of indecisiveness around him.

Jim took his jacket from the hook. He wanted to say something, something profound and sincere. Jim opened his mouth, even though he still wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to say. Spock beat him to it.

"Please forgive me, Jim," Spock uttered, his shoulder uncharacteristically slumped.

The softness of Spock's words caught him off guard. "What for?"

"I apologize for involving you in my personal affairs. My mother wishes to see me bonded. Illogically, I would prefer her to believe that the wish will come true. It is possible that this deception will provide her with a positive experience. Nonetheless, I apologize for ruining your plans for the evening. In addition to that, I ought to compensate the cost of the food and the wine."

"There's no need to apologize. And I'm gonna let you "compensate the cost". It was a great evening for me. I'll definitely visit you again." Jim reached out to pat Spock's arm but thought better of it and stopped the movement halfway.

"Absolutely not," Spock disagreed almost fervently.

Jim tried to hide his hurt under the false cheer. "You didn't like me that much?"

"Quite the opposite." His voice lowered down to an almost wistful rumble. "You have made a strong impression on me."

"Nice to know it's mutual."

Spock quickly amended himself. "It must be the effect of the wine."

Jim smiled, not at all convinced. "You are very nice. I don't understand why you had to invent a friend," He made another abortive motion as if he wanted to touch his arm. Spock felt a spike of yearning. Jim was silent for a moment, then, he continued, "You've got an amazing Mom. I'd like to see her again. And you know, not only her." Jim looked at him, his cheeks flushed.

Against himself, Spock admired his long fair eyelashes. He tried to break the spell with harsh words. "You need not come here again."

"You can't be a fake bondmate for one evening and stop immediately after that. Then, you shouldn't have started at all," Jim retorted.

Spock didn't rise up to the bait, his earlier sassiness replaced by resignation. "You should go, Jim." He opened the door. Jim took a step back, across the threshold and was about to argue his point.

"Thank you for your help," Spock said without inflection and closed the door in his face. There was an exasperated huff and the sound of steps down the stairs.

He stood, his palm on the door, absorbing the surrounding stillness. It felt unwelcome and oppressive, and a tad sad.

Entering the living room, Spock noticed that his mother's eyes were tear-filled, and there was a telltale redness around them.

He rushed to her side.

"Mother, is something wrong? Are you feeling worse?"

Amanda clutched her hands together. "It's so terrible."

"What is?"

"All this."

Spock's breath hitched, and he gripped the back of the armchair. "Did you figure it out?"

"Yes, immediately. I might be unwell, but I can see and hear just fine." She gave him a watery smile.

"I–I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Amanda looked up at him. "For loving him so much?"

Spock choked on the indrawn breath.

"You've been lucky this time," Amanda noted. "It's very obvious to everyone that he loves you, too. You'll be so happy together. Please believe me, you could be very happy with him."

"What is the cause of your tears, then?"

"Guilt."

"Guilt?" Spock sat down on the couch.

"Yes. Guilt. I'm guilty. I've always kept you close to me, because you bring me so much comfort. Deep in my heart I've been terrified by the idea that you could find a bondmate and leave me. Now I realize how wrong of me it was. Hope you can forgive me for holding you back."

Her distraught expression pierced through his heart. "You have nothing to apologize for. You have always encouraged me to go further and beyond, to be the best version of me. If I have not found a bondmate, only I am responsible for this." He pressed his hand reassuringly against her forearm.

Spock poured tea for both of them.

…

"I really wish Jim could visit us again soon. The week has passed since his visit. He makes me feel better, younger." Amanda was being very insistent.

Spock barely refrained from scratching his nose. Instead he said, "He is away on the mission, deep in space."

"Do you manage to keep in touch?" Amanda frowned.

"Jim's workload is too heavy to allow him enough time for communication." Was it even lying? It could as well fit the category of creative thinking.

"It'd be such a joy to me to see you happily bonded. I'm afraid I have less than a year. Two at most."

Spock noticed that the time had grown. Perhaps, the positive emotions did really help his mother.

The door chimed. Startled, they turned around.

"Are you expecting somebody?" Amanda asked.

"Negative."

Spock walked over and opened the door. It was Jim behind it. The moment holding a dreamlike quality.

"It's me." The words were illogical, not needed. They could clearly see each other. That was the illogicality of human social behavior, Spock noted distractedly.

"You're surprised to see me, aren't you?"

"Affirmative."

"Pleasantly surprised?"

"I am just surprised," Spock said with difficulty.

"Aren't I good enough as a bondmate?" Jim tilted his head, sounding disturbingly serious. "Your mom seems attached to me."

"You have left on a high-profile space mission," Spock whispered back.

"Yeah, sure. Can't you hear the engines roaring outside? The crew's waiting for me to hop back." Jim smiled wryly. "I came to say goodbye to my fiancé."

"I am not your fiancé." Spock looked back worriedly over his shoulder. "Farewell. Now you can go."

"Well, I've got to get my breath back. You know, I had to run, then the stairs—"

Spock gave him an unbelieving stare, and Jim quickly changed the topic.

"How's your mother doing? This is actually for her." Jim showed him a pot with a succulent.

"She has plenty of plants in her possession."

"It'll be another one in her collection." Jim replied with an unwavering cheerfulness, the only rival to it being his stubbornness. He was a man on a mission, determined to give it his best. Spock's reserve was slipping away.

"It would be more sensible to bestow this gift upon your paramour." A final attempt at pushing him away.

Jim scrunched up his nose. "Spock, look—"

"Who is it?" Amanda called out from the armchair.

"It's me, Amanda."

"Jim? Jim, how is it possible? Did you come back earlier?" Supporting herself on the armrests, Amanda raised slightly from her chair, trying to see what was happening.

"Mother, Jim is in a hurry."

"In a hurry to see you." Jim intervened cheekily and slid past him.

"Oh, Jim," Amanda stood up slightly reaching out for a hug, which Jim happily gave her. She motioned to the spot on the couch nearby.

Amanda leaned closer to Jim and whispered all conspiratorial, "Did your mission end earlier?"

Jim beamed, "You wouldn't believe it. Not earlier, just cancelled all together."

Amanda's eyes sparkled. "Oh, my son will be so happy. Wait till he learns about it."

Right on cue Spock entered the room. Was he wearing a different robe? Jim squinted thoughtfully at him; he didn't remember him wearing a tempting silky thing when he'd opened the door. Jim dragged his gaze up and gave Spock a smile which, he suspected, wasn't as suave as he'd intended and edged more on hopeful and tentative. Spock appeared pleasantly flustered.

"S'chn T'gai, can you believe it? Jim's mission got cancelled," Amanda called out.

Spock raised a skeptical brow, which was softened by the traces of amusement, the unexpected intimate expression doing something interesting to Jim's insides, in a good way, mind you.

"Would you like some tea?" Spock asked them, with something that could be read as a small smile, especially if you were really eager to find it on his face.

"Y-Yeah, that'd be really nice, thanks," Jim murmured.

Amanda gave a nod.

While Spock was making the tea in the kitchen island, Amanda was gushing about Spock's professional and personal achievements, which, Jim deduced, were meant to inspire awe and admiration in him. And well, frankly, they did it quite successfully, cementing the respect and some other vague feelings he had for Spock already. The not-so-subtle movement of Spock's shoulders made Jim think that these stories had been reaching his ears, and he had been sighing and rolling his eyes at them.

Spock brought the tray and put it on the table in front of them, flagrant smells rising from the cups. He went around the couch and took something from there.

It was a lute. Spock came back to sit in the armchair. There was a far-away look on his face; pensively he stroked the strings.

He started singing, and Jim realized that he was lost. Something indescribable was shining through Spock's face, as if illuminated by the hidden light inside. There was hope and sadness and pain and love in the voice singing about the lonely breeze in the desert. The singing wasn't perfect and being rusty in Vulcan, Jim failed to understand most of the lyrics, but the sincerity of it was overwhelming. Jim couldn't take his eyes off Spock, even though it was almost painful to continue staring.

Of course, Jim was aware that Spock wasn't an emotionless machine despite all the stereotypes about Vulcans. Stereotypes always failed to reflect the complex reality. But to see the depth, to know—

Spock finished singing and put the lute aside, there was still something wistful and open in his expression.

After a moment of awed silence, Jim found his voice again. "It was beautiful," he breathed out. Spock gave him a warm look, which awakened hope and other dangerous ideas in him, ideas he was quickly getting attached to.

Spock made himself a cup of tea and joined them at the coffee table. They had a nice talk for about an hour, at the end of which Amanda declared that she might live for another five years and felt like she could leave her armchair in the near future.

Eventually, Jim reluctantly rose to go, as he'd promised Bones to meet him at the shuttle bay.

Could it be that Spock, following him to the door, also looked disappointed by the fact that he was leaving or was it just wishful thinking? Jim didn't like the uncertainty.

Reaching the door, Jim turned to Spock and made himself meet his eyes.

"I really enjoyed spending time with you. It was great to get to know you better, and I don't want to put an end to this exploration. I—I really like you. Would you be interested in that to?" Jim breathed in deeply and shakily and babbled on. "And you know, it's over with Tony. Well, it's never been on, actually. I've never—It didn't seem right to go to him after I'd met you and Amanda." Jim stopped to catch his breath.

Spock blinked and did something complicated with the corners of his mouth which was pleasant and oddly encouraging, "Answering your questions, Jim, yes, I am interested." He battled with himself for a moment. "I find you immensely fascinating. I do not wish to cease this exploration, either."

Jim's shoulders relaxed, "I'd like to give you my communicator number. I really hope you could call me or text me soon." At a small nod in response Jim grew bolder. "Maybe tomorrow, you know. That'd be really cool." Jim fumbled with his communicator for a bit.

"Okay, here you are. Please don't send me into a deep space mission again."

"I will not, since I am not authorized to do it."

Jim laughed. "Right you are. Well, I've got to go, but I really hope you'll contact me soon."

"Yes, I will, Jim," Spock promised.

Jim patted his shoulder. The hand brushing the length of his forearm when he took it away, leaving a hot stripe behind. He gave a final glance and hopped down the stairs.

Spock closed the door and headed to the living room, a strange feeling of anticipation spreading in his stomach.

Seeing his expression, Amanda smiled knowingly in her armchair.


End file.
